


Quick Shot

by Interkos



Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Begging, Cowboys, Dry Humping, Grinding, M/M, One Shot, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 20:42:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16899552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Interkos/pseuds/Interkos
Summary: In response to an anon that said :Idea: Vampire that’s a cowboy. That idea has been stuck in my head all fucking day and I’m losing my mind because the image simultaneously makes me laugh because c’mon Vampire Cowboy... but then my Gay Instincts kick in when I imagine it because cowboy is a Type I Have and the added bit of fangs and golden eyes are like... yeah.





	Quick Shot

You’d seen a lot of strange things out on the range, but nothing ever gave you a feeling quite as eerie as that new man you'd seen wandering around the ranch. He'd come in from the city, you'd heard the other farmhands say. You didn’t quite know what to think of his outfit, all white and covered in intricate golden decorations, but it sure made him stand out. The others laughed and called him a tenderfoot, but something about the way his eyes flashed out from under the brim of his hat kept you quiet. They stopped laughing when they saw him throw bales of hay around like they were nothing. You could tell they were a little scared. Your stomach was in knots for another reason entirely. They didn't like the way he could stare a bull in the eyes and sweet talk it right into a pen either, but you thought it was fascinating.

When the boss told you he’d be your partner for the cattle drive this summer, all you could do was nod. He was the quiet type, and you spent a lot of time with just the clanging of the cowbells and the rustling of the grass between you, but you eventually squeezed his name out of him. Ernest. Too gentle a name for the way his strange eyes cut through you.

The first time you saw him take his gloves off, it was by the light of a small cooking fire. The other cowboys would have teased him about his soft hands, but you found yourself filled with a desire to hold them, to feel them against your skin. You couldn't help but imagine them running across your back, your chest, your stomach… He turned his gaze on you then. You could swear you heard him break into a chuckle when you tore your eyes away. He asked you if you wanted the rest of his supper and, of course, you tripped over your words answering him. He held out his bowl, and when his finger brushed against yours it was like a lightning bolt ran up your arm and down your spine. You nearly dropped his leftovers.

The first time he took his shirt off was the day you drove the cattle across a river. You were soaked through, but he said you should wait until nightfall to change. It was a warm day anyway, right, partner? His wet shirt clung to him, showing off the swell of his muscles, and you were glad he was riding up ahead instead of by your side. By the time you settled down for the evening, you were mostly dry, but Ernest still stripped, hanging his shirt by the fire. There were no more cows to distract either of you, and you could feel his eyes on you as he leaned back, showing off the smooth lines of his body, preening like a peacock.

“What do you reckon this is?” he asked. Your head snapped up.

“W-what?”

He brushed his fingers over his chest, pointing to the spot over his heart. “This. I’ve had it for a while. What do you reckon it is?”

You squinted, trying to see by the flickering light of the fire. “Dunno.”

He chuckled, amused. “Well, of course, y'ain’t gonna see anything from over there."

He cocked his head to the side, a hint of a smile gleaming in between his full lips.

“Come closer.”

A wave of adrenaline rushed through you at the tone of his voice, but you swallowed your nerves and scooched closer, biting your cheek as he leaned his head back, exposing his neck. He pulled his hand away and you saw what he was talking about, a small, pale mark near his sternum. It stood out against his smooth, brassy skin.

“Looks like a scar to me.”

“Are you sure?” The lilt in his voice made heat bloom from your cheeks all the way down your neck.

“I think so.”

“Maybe you should touch it to double check.”

You looked him in the eyes, mouth agape. “Ernest…”

“Touch it,” he repeated, smiling coyly.

You opened your mouth to protest but he took your hand, his grasp firm and strong, and placed it over his heart.

“Ernest!” you gasped, suddenly out of breath.

“Touch me,” he repeated, his grin flashing two pointed canines as he tucked your scraggly hair behind your ear.

Hands shaking and heart pounding, you melted into his touch, leaning down to press your lips against his own. He pulled you in closer, gripping your damp shirt and deepening the kiss. You came up for air and yelped as he tore your shirt open, sending buttons flying every which way, exposing you, displaying you. His hands were all over you, as soft and strong as you had imagined them, and when he pushed against your shoulder, you let him flip you and pin you to the ground. He loomed over you, all muscle and perfect skin and shining eyes, and you could barely bring yourself to touch him.

The warmth creeped down from your neck to your groin as he started grinding against you, his arms braced against your legs and an obscene smirk on his face. You were already embarrassingly hard, and you could barely breathe as he moved tantalizingly against you, his own erection outlined by the tightness of his pants.

“It’s rude to stare,” he teased, laughing. You choked back an embarrassed sob and covered your face with your hands, but he pulled them back, leaning down close to you.

“Tell me what you want, cowboy.”

You shuddered at the feeling of his breath fanning over your face. Then he was at your neck, nuzzling against you.

“Tell me, or I stop.”

He nipped your collarbone and you gasped again, your hips rolling up against his.

“Yes,” you breathed.

“Yes what?”

“Please… Ernest…” you begged quietly, “I want… you. I want you.”

Seemingly satisfied, Ernest’s hips ground down harder, making you yelp in pleasure. You were close, you could feel it, and you were fighting to keep it together, but when you felt the sting of his teeth on your neck you couldn’t hold back, letting out a strangled shout as you came. The wave of pleasure took you by surprise, your orgasm extended by the strong suction at your neck that was leaving you lightheaded and completely limp. The aftershocks rocked through you until Ernest relaxed his jaw, replacing his mouth with a firm hand. You watched on, eyes half lidded and head cloudy, as he wiped his his mouth, smearing your blood across his cheek. Panting, his dark hair tousled and his eyes shining, he smiled down at you.

“You’re a quick shot, cowboy.”


End file.
